


Shadows Aren’t a Valid Source of Vitamin C

by tinyorangehat



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kinda, M/M, im just really sad, self care for the unwilling, whatever the camp hospital is, what’s the matter nico, you don’t believe that you deserve to be saved?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29262945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyorangehat/pseuds/tinyorangehat
Summary: Shadowtravel- while a very attractive form of transportation- has just left Nico in a bit of a bind. Will, an obnoxious son of Hermes that Nico wants nothing to do with, won’t let him leave the camp infirmary until he can take a step without turning to dust.Which, okay, is a little valid, considering Nico still can’t throw Will’s magic gum back at him without it phasing through his hand, but still.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo & Will Solace, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Kudos: 12





	1. really? passing out in public? couldn't be me.

There are very few things that can shake Nico de Angelo. 

Will Solace is one of those things. In most recorded cases, it’s a mental shake - being outed by Cupid, Bianca’s death,  _ Leo _ of all people recommending that he go see a therapist when there  _ isn’t anything wrong, Leo, drop the subject. _ Will Wouldn’t ordinarily be able to shake Nico - Nico barely knows the guy, his main impression being that  _ wow, that guy definitely likes gum.  _

Will’s exception comes from this metaphorical shake being literal. 

Nico’s head lolls against Will’s shoulder, blood dripping from his nose like it has better places to be. 

“Oh my gods. Oh my- oh my  _ gods,” _ Will’s voice comes, panicked and  _ far  _ too loud somewhere next to Nico’s fuzzy, staticky head. 

Nico frowns, eyes shut tight. The shirt his hands are fisted in is significantly more comfortable than the shadows he’s been living in, but it’s so much  _ louder.  _

_ I deserve the best of both worlds,  _ he decides dizzily, not so much lifting his head as having it yanked upright. Fingers prod at his eyelids, and he rolls his eyes away from the light seemingly intent on blinding him. 

If it’s too bright, he can’t shadowtravel.

_ Can I shadowtravel without my eyes? _

...probably best not to think about it. Actually, now that the fingers aren’t trying to make him into a modern day Tiresias, not thinking about  _ anything  _ seems like a pretty good idea. 

...yeah. That sounds good. 


	2. delirium is cooler in the movies. reality is really sweaty.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Nico could stop struggling for two second and just chill, Will’s job would be half over.  
> Will’s job is decidedly not half over.

Nico doesn’t have a “first thought” when he wakes- if he did, it was lost to the cold, all-encompassing  _ numbing  _ in his bones, somehow leaving him both feverish and chilly all at once. 

Nico did, however, have a “first throat-wracking groan” when he wakes, one loud enough to summon a warm hand to his forehead. 

Nico turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut as nausea hits. He’s had some low points, sure, but this

This is pretty bad. 

The hand disappears, leaving Nico to feel slightly lonely in its absence. 

_I_ _repel most things, though,_ he muses, but is immediately proved wrong when the hand’s smaller, more devious counterpart(fingers) returns with a vengeance. 

“Shhhhhhhstopst-” Nico rasps out, only to find his mouth filled with...lasagna. 

Huh. 

...it’s not bad, actually. The consistency is more of  _ cake  _ than of noodles, but it isn’t unpleasant.

Actually, that consistency  _ is  _ kinda confusing, but maybe that’s a side effect of whatever’s going on with his skin. It’s cold everywhere except for his  _ wrist _ for some reason. 

He swallows the lasagna thoughtfully, feeling suddenly a great deal better. To be fair, though, he hadn’t been feeling that great  _ before  _ the whole mess, when that gorgon-

He sits upright abruptly, grabbing the Stygian Iron sword from his belt in a fluid moment and grabbing the snaked head of the gorgon with his restrained wrist, eyes shut tight against her stare as he plunges forward to behead it-

Nico collapses against a strong chest, his weapon already clattering to the ground as the monster twists it out of his hand expertly. He shoves at it, but it’s either stronger than he thought or he’s  _ significantly  _ weaker than expected, because it  _ feels  _ like he’s not even making contact with the gorgon that smells  _ weirdly  _ like

Nico opens his eyes, finally registering the humming directed at him from a decidedly  _ familiar  _ voice

Will Solace stares at him, unruffled as can be as he  _ sings  _ to Nico. 

“Hey, Angelo. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Will looks...unwell. Maybe it’s just Nico, but he doesn’t remember those circles under Will’s eyes. 

“I know your brain is probably stuck in  _ Nico’s super unhealthy shadowland  _ at the moment, but that doesn’t excuse your impromptu swordfight against me.”

...then again, it isn’t like they were actually  _ friends  _ \- barely even acquaintances, so it’s entirely possible that he hasn’t memorized Will’s  _ very  _ freckled face. 

“Especially considering it wasn’t a sword. I don’t think I’ll ever see spoons the same way after this.”

Will seems a bit stronger than he used to be, too, going by the grip on his wrist and the way his head is cradled securely enough to make the hot, heady static fade from his ears

“Alright, buddy, it’s naptime for you. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about how  _ idiotic  _ you’ve been acting lately.”

Nico blinks slowly as his face is peeled off of Will’s shirt - which,  _ ew,  _ his face must be  _ sweaty  _ sweaty - makes him feel abruptly cold again.

Nico breathes in displeasure. It isn’t much, but he needs to be verbally displeased somehow. 

Still. It’s hard to be displeased when a warm blanket is tucked around him, and when someone’s humming in his ear, and he can still taste the lasagna that could’ve been straight from his mother’s stove

Nico closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah basically I manifested myself getting sick so that’s rad

**Author's Note:**

> let me know if I should continue!


End file.
